


Fake It Till You Make It

by reinadefuego



Category: Fast and the Furious Series
Genre: Community: trope_bingo, F/M, Fake Marriage, Post-Canon, Small Towns, Trope Bingo Round 12
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-12
Updated: 2020-03-04
Packaged: 2020-05-01 23:59:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,376
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19187845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reinadefuego/pseuds/reinadefuego
Summary: For the second time in his life, Luke Hobbs is about to become a married man, and his new wife is as much a stranger to him as any woman he's been set up with. There's only one complication: Elizabeth Shaw isn't just anybody, and this undercover faux marriage mission is going to keep them together for two long weeks of domestic bliss — or should that be hell?Written for Trope Bingo Round 12: Fake Relationship.





	1. Chapter 1

"You're telling me we have to keep this up for two weeks." She glanced at Hobbs in the seat next to her and frowned. Owen or Deckard would've been an easier option, or Letty, but their names had never come up. It seemed her choice was Hobbs or some guy she'd never met, so she'd taken the lesser of two arseholes. "Sounds great..."

Mr. Nobody nodded and set three photos down in front of them. "We've already put together a cover story. Passports, photo albums, favourite restaurants. You two met in Auckland—"

"Thanks, Nobody," Luke said, sliding the photos back towards him. Despite the distance, the doubles didn't remotely look like them. If they needed photos to pass as a couple, they would be the kind that could hold up to his own scrutiny. "I'm sure we'll do fine on our own."

"Well, we have already arranged everything."

"I don't even know where Auckland is," Elizabeth said. It was a lie — who grew up with rugby fans and  _didn't_  know of the New Zealand All Blacks? — but a lie that would hopefully get him off her back. The more someone nagged or tried to coerce her, the more she wound up pushing back; it was a reflex.

And for once, part of her was actually willing to do this mission; perhaps that same part was even hoping she'd enjoy it. It had been a while since she'd stretched her legs and focused on something other than circuits and wires. The rest of her just wanted to get it over and done with so she could return to work and see her family.

"I think between the two of us," Elizabeth said, "we can figure something out."

"Okay. You two have fun then." He started walking toward the door, hands by his sides and sunglasses folded and hooked over his breast pocket. The vaguely pleased look on his face said this was possibly the exact outcome Mr. Nobody had been hoping for. "Don't hesitate to call if you need anything, Luke."

Luke nodded, grabbed one of the photos and rolled his eyes. If he'd seen them beforehand, he would've realised they were being baited long before the topic had arisen. "Okay."

Elizabeth let out a sigh of relief once Nobody exited the glass-panelled conference room. She slumped in her chair, propped her feet up on the table and groaned. "I guess we'd better start getting to know each other then."

"Let's keep it simple. We met in a hotel bar in Moscow. I couldn't speak a word of the language and you were... you."

"Charming, bored and alone."

Hobbs snorted in derision. Charming wasn't exactly a word he would ever have associated with her. In a vague way, Shaw was amiable yet infuriating, but not charming. "An accountant on her lunch break."

"That's fine." If he'd said mistress or something along those lines, she might have knocked him on his arse and made sure that word never left his mouth again. Hobbs didn't know the type of woman she was — and he likely never would — but that was a line she couldn't cross.

"How long till we got together?"

"Two months, three at most." Luke didn't rush into relationships; it was a thing with him. Hell, he'd never so much as batted an eyelid at the smiling moms who came to Sam's soccer matches. "I worked on an international trade deal with the hotel owner."

The anger in her voice was clear, and for once Elizabeth didn't manage to hold it back. "No."

"No what?"

"You're not posing as a trafficker."

"Whoa." Luke held up his hands as if to stop her. Where the hell had that come from? "I never said anything about human trafficking."

"International trade," she made air quotes, "with the hotel owner?" There was venom in her voice, anger derived from frustration and helplessness burning in her eyes. "What else am I meant to think you're talking about?"

"It was a bad choice of words. I meant something along the lines of helping them procure high quality materials. Someone who makes sure guests get their thirty thousand dollar fish eggs and shit-flavoured coffee beans."

Oh. That kind of thing. When he'd said 'international trade', her mind had immediately gone to the worst possible meaning. It was a horrendous and persistent dark side of the business industry she abhorred. Albeit she'd never seen it with her own eyes but there'd been whispers here and there, rumours and the like.

"Shaw."

Elizabeth focused on the glass panel opposite them, slowly lowered her feet and sat up straight. She sighed, rubbed her neck uneasily and avoided making eye contact with him.  _Good one, idiot. Just bite his head off before it's even begun._  "You can figure the details out and I'll memorise them later. It's probably better if..."

"Hey." Luke gripped her shoulder and squeezed it. He hoped she took it for reassurance and not something else. "We're playing a married couple, not a pair of criminals. You don't have to worry about whatever skeletons you have coming out of the closet. Hell, there'll even be a white picket fence with our name on it."

There was no way they'd be able to pass as a couple if she misread every single word that came out of his mouth. Nor could he afford to tiptoe around her every time he so much as said a single word. A piece of him should've known she'd snap at that — the rest had underestimated just how criminally-oriented her head presently was. Clearly they had to get to know each other and  _fast_ , else the lines between 'Luke Hobbs' and 'Elizabeth Shaw' a.k.a 'James and Natalie Cole' began to blur.

"I'm sorry I..." Elizabeth stood up, slipped her thin grey jacket on and shoved her hands in the pockets. She needed out of this glass aquarium, needed to clear her head and get away from those fake photos on the table. Especially the one that had her face on someone else's body, with fake-Luke's arms around her waist; fake-Luke's smile saying this was one of the happiest moments in his life. "I need some air. I'm going for a run."

Yeah, he'd gathered that. The music was starting — now it was time for them to get in sync. "You get one lap, fifteen minutes, at a sprint. If you're not back here by the time I've gotten us something to eat, I'll come looking."

Fifteen minutes? That wasn't much time at all. She couldn't help but glance up at Hobbs when he stood and moved between her and the door. Elizabeth saw the serious look in his eyes, the grim line of his lips. The look that said if she pushed her luck with him, he really would come and find her.

"You now have fourteen minutes and fifty-two seconds."

Son of a! Elizabeth shoved past him and took off running for the nearest door that led outside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Hobbs exit the box as well and make for the stairwell that led to the warehouse kitchen.

"Fourteen minutes and seventeen seconds!"

Was he counting in his head, or had she somehow not noticed him fiddling with his watch? Elizabeth pushed the door open and stepped out into the weak warmth of the desert air. She secured the bottom half of her jacket so it wouldn't flap, stretched her legs slightly and broke into an easy jog that quickly gave way to a hard sprint.

"Just how many meals a day do you eat, fat boy?" Deckard asked. When the door to the kitchen had opened, he'd been surprised to find it was Hobbs instead of Owen or their sister. Given the three of them were all the snack-inclined type that liked having trail mix or protein bars on hand, it wasn't unusual to find one or all of them fixing something in the kitchen at any hour of the day.

"Five." A high intensity job required calories, and muscle required meat. Luke was careful about what he put in his body, yet he still enjoyed what he ate. "What kind of food does your sister like?"

"Beth?" Deckard's brow pinched in confusion. Why was Hobbs asking about...

"Yeah. Your sister who I just pissed off." The 'again' went unspoken as Luke glanced down at his watch. "I got thirteen minutes till she comes back from her run."

"This is because of a job, isn't it? Nobody's been approaching me with vague questions for several days about you and her."

He nodded. "It's undercover work. Fake marriage, nice house, the whole nine yards. What does she eat?"

"Anything that's not tied down."

Well that wasn't the answer he'd been hoping for. Luke frowned and pulled open the fridge, staring at container upon container of pre-cooked food and dated leftovers. They were in a high stress environment and their situation was about to completely change. The last thing Luke wanted was to discover Shaw had an aversion to good food.

"You do understand we barely know each other. We might be family but our time together was limited when her and H—" Deckard caught himself just as the first letter of Hattie's name came out. He mentally scolded himself for almost slipping up and revealing the  _other_  secret they'd all been keeping under wraps. Their other sister's existence was closely guarded knowledge that, given her job, most people didn't need to know. "I was already in the military by the time she came along. You'd be better off asking Owen."

Goddamn it. Luke grabbed out two containers of pre-sliced vegetables, one of cooked rice, found a half-used jar of black bean sauce, and two of the steaks he'd left to defrost overnight in a container with his name on it. He hadn't thought about the very real implications of them living in the same house till now. They'd more than likely eat together, share the same bathroom, and very possibly sleep in the same bedroom.

Luke was, for the second time in his life, about to become a married man, and his new wife was as much a stranger to him as any woman he'd been set up with on a blind date.

Jesus H. Christ, why had he allowed himself to be talked into this?

The large chopping board was fetched from the second drawer, then Hobbs pulled a knife from the block and gave it the once over before getting to work. Stir-fry would have to do. If Shaw didn't like it, she could cook her own meals. Luke wasn't going to play the role of her housekeeper and he certainly wouldn't be her personal chef.

As the sliced meat hit the pan, his watch beeped in warning. Five minutes. Shaw was probably slowing to a crawl by now, if she hadn't already. He didn't want to think about the ramifications of her collapsing, or how Owen and Deckard would react to the news he'd indirectly killed their sister. While his watch ticked down, Luke wiped his face dry with a paper towel and fetched two bowls from the oven. If they weren't warmed beforehand, the condensation would pool at the bottom. The last thing he wanted was watery food.

"If you break her heart—"

"You'll kill me?" Hobbs laughed. Now where had he heard that before? Almost every father warned the boy who was picking up his daughter for prom with that line. "Or will she do it herself?"

"Walk away," Deckard finished. "You said this is a mission. Emotional involvement will only make things worse for the both of you."

"I'm not going to get emotionally involved." Wasn't he? He'd done jobs like this before, although they rarely ever involved a partner. Usually the targets took one look at him with his muscles and tatts, an overgrown beard, denim or leather jacket, and decided the chance of him being a Fed were slim to none.

"Good."

His watch beeped again once Luke started dividing the now-steaming brown rice. Two minutes. The rest of their food was sizzling away, smelling more like manna from heaven than something he'd thrown together on a whim. "You mind passing me that tray?"

"You'll have to show me the wedding photos when this is all over," Deckard said. He pushed the wooden tray across the table without pause. "I guess I should say 'break a leg', or not. You might need your legs intact when she tries killing you after the second night."

Hobbs finished plating up and began making his way downstairs. "That's not funny."

"Enjoy your freedom while it lasts, Hobbs!"

Outside, Elizabeth peered through the gap in the door and wondered if her fifteen minutes were up yet. She hadn't seen hide nor hair of Hobbs, but he had to be in there somewhere. She breathed raggedly, her heart pounding against her ribs as if it were a trapped animal attempting to escape. Her leg muscles burned with exhaustion, trembling as she kept herself upright through sheer determination.

Hobbs had given her fifteen minutes to clear her head and get her shit together. She'd allowed herself five. Five minutes of running to realise she needed to get a wrangle on herself, to psych herself up before she returned to that glass box.

The other nine minutes had been spent sprinting, trying to burn the anger out of herself. Hobbs deserved common decency, not antagonism. He wasn't some wanker acting tough and baiting her into a fight. And if she jumped down his throat every time he said so much as 'boo', this mission would end before it began.

As she watched for any sign of him, a watch beeped faintly somewhere. Whether it was Hobbs' watch or not, she wasn't going to take any chances. Elizabeth pushed the door open with her shoulder, legs almost reduced to jelly, and staggered towards the conference room. Sweat clung to her face and dampened her shirt in patches, her mouth was dry and her head pounded from the fading adrenaline rush.

"Shaw!" Luke signalled her from one of the empty work benches. Two chairs sat at either end of the bench, steaming bowls of beef and rice positioned opposite one another as well. "How about that food?"

"Mm." Elizabeth nodded, dragging herself across the warehouse floor towards him before she flopped down in one of the cushioned desk chairs. Her lungs still burned and her leg muscles began to twitch and spasm as she sank into the seat. "About before..."

"It's over. No harm done. Let's eat lunch then get to working on some photos."

Photos? Right. Photos of herself, and him. Of them together. Now the gravity of the situation was beginning to sink in. This was nothing more than a façade but everything about it had to appear real. If anything came across as fake, the mission would likely be compromised.

"I'm sorry I nearly ripped your head off."

Luke shrugged then began to eat. There was nothing more to be said on the subject. After all, if she thought losing her temper and snapping at him was bad, what would she think when she saw the dent he'd made after her brother's apparent death?

And how would she react if he told her about what he'd done to Hernan Reyes?

With that small weight off her shoulders, Elizabeth shifted her attention to her food and ate in silence. She took her bowl to the kitchen and washed it in silence. She didn't say another word for as long as it took Hobbs to find an SLR camera and a tripod to sit it on.

 _Pretend he's her,_  Elizabeth told herself. There had to be an easier way than psyching herself up. A more organic and natural way that lent itself to believability. Something that could override the bottomless well of conflicting emotions she felt towards Hobbs.  _You were in love with your old boyfriend once. And her. Remember what that felt like._

Luke shifted uncomfortably on the couch, gaze fixed on the camera that was silently ticking down. Had prepping for undercover work ever been this difficult before? Hobbs couldn't remember the last time he'd found himself in such an awkward position. There was still half a foot of space between them, both struggling not to be overly physical with the other, and her spine was so rigid Luke could've sworn someone had struck Elizabeth with a taser.

"I think this would be easier if we did solo shots to start with." Luke stood, scraped together what was left of his professionalism, and picked the camera up. "Any preferences?"

"Preferences for what?"

He sighed, adjusted the zoom, took a few steps back so it wouldn't appear as if he were looming over her. "Best sides? Angles?"

"As long as you don't start laying on the floor and try to take photos up my pants, I think they'll turn out fine." Elizabeth gave him an impatient look as if to say 'get on with it' and flopped back on the couch. She half-tilted toward him, staring up at an invisible point on his sternum, bent her legs, and tried to give an expression of utter boredom. "And if you did try something like that, I would have no qualms about smashing that stool into your face."

The amused look on his face turned into a shit-eating grin. Shaw was as serious as ever, and the look in her eyes betrayed the blank one on her face. Threats were all she doled out now. Luke had found himself a little disappointed by that fact, least of all by the sheer lack of attempts at handing his ass to him. Deckard's presence in the warehouse seemed to serve as active discouragement for her more violent tendencies. "I like old school photos better. So what's the story behind this one?"

"My husband is six-foot-four, well-built," her British accent seemed to fade slightly as she spoke, "and I'm thinking about all the ways I could fuck him into the couch he's sitting on."

Elizabeth smiled, glad that her brothers had yet to intrude on them. She was also thankful a certain Toretto was elsewhere in the building instead of standing there and watching them. If anyone else had heard her say  _that_ , she would never live it down. Hobbs was certainly the most attractive man in the building but not even God himself would get her to admit that aloud.

Hobbs quirked his eyebrow and took the photo without another moment wasted. He wasn't going to give her the satisfaction of knowing she'd almost caused him to drop the camera. Or that his heart had done its own spit-take.  _Jesus. She isn't serious, is she?_

"Are you done? Pass the camera." She snapped her fingers and gestured for him to give it to her. "Come on, I want to see how stupid I look."

"You don't look stupid."

"You took one, I take one. That was the agreement."

"I know, but I didn't take the photo."

"What? Bullshit." Elizabeth sat up and swung her legs off the couch. That was the most blatant lie in the world. "I heard the click, Hobbs. Hand the camera over."

"That was the timer." She walked towards him and reached for the camera. Luke lifted it above his head with ease. If 'stupid' was how she described 'somewhat good-looking', he didn't want to know what she'd say when it came time for the wedding photos. "There is no photo."

Really? Elizabeth cocked her head to look up at him. Was Hobbs going to actually play the height game? "Now you're just making things worse for yourself."

"How?"

She glanced down at his pelvis for a split second and lifted her knee. There were two ways to take a man down when they were taller than you. Only one of those ways was easy and involved minimal force.

"You try that and this mission will be over before it begins. I threw your brother through a wall once and I have no problem doing the same to you."

"Then just hand it over."

Luke one-handedly deleted the photo before lowering his arm and giving her the camera. "See?"

She thumbed through the controls, raised her eyebrows at the absence of any photos. Perhaps he'd been telling the... "Huh. No photo, but what's this?" Elizabeth quickly stepped back out of arm's reach and manoeuvred around the coffee table. Leave it up to Hobbs to not want to hand over control of the situation. The longer he had the camera, the less chances she had to do her part of the job. "Of course, he doesn't think to clear the recycling bin! Now it's my turn. Get on the couch, Hobbs."

Luke sat on the stool instead, looking somewhat sombre. While she'd been talking — he'd stopped listening once she had hold of the camera — the reality of his two week absence from the state of California had finally sunk in. "Go ahead and take the photo. We still need time to figure out the wedding shots."

She eyed him but let the discomfort slide. If he didn't like having his photo taken, why not simply say so? It wasn't as if she would judge him over it. Elizabeth sighed and nodded, adjusted the zoom and again stepped back. Hobbs was right, however reluctant she was to admit it. They had eight hours to finish mission prep then pack their bags before they were scheduled for an early morning drive to the airport. Even as they sat there talking, she knew there was still so much left to do and not enough time within which to do it.

"Was it the 'fucking my husband' comment that made you uncomfortable or is it just me?" She took the photo without another moment wasted then set the camera down on the couch. He could develop them later, or print them, whatever he wanted to do. "We'll be living together for two weeks, Fed. I just want to know if I should wash my underwear separately and sleep in the garage."

"No, it wasn't that." If only it had been. Her comment had certainly surprised him a little but it hadn't rattled him. Things like that were kind of par for the course in a fake marriage. "Being undercover means I can't see my daughter, or talk to her."

"You can always back out."

"I'm good." If he walked away now, his ego would never let him live it down. "It's like Nobody said, this thing's only for two weeks. Before we know it, it'll be over with and we'll be back here hunting Cipher."

"Right."

"And I can't compromise the security of the mission, even for Sam."

"You're a former federal agent and I'm a convicted murderer. It's already compromised."


	2. Chapter 2

"It's just some minor turbulence." The plane shuddered violently, pitching to one side for a few seconds before leveling out. According to the pilot, they'd hit a rough patch. It was nothing that wouldn't be over given time, Luke hoped. "Only an hour left till we land, then a short drive."

"Great," she muttered. Beth's fingers were dug into the arms of her seat like claws, head pressed back against the cushion and eyes squeezed shut. "Big relief knowing there's still an entire fucking hour of this."

"If you didn't want to fly, you should've said something."

"You should've asked." He'd had her locked in an SUV for the duration of a flight from London to Los Angeles — had her condition after being allowed out of the car not been a sufficient clue as to how she handled flying? "Anyway, it's the fastest way there, isn't it?"

Her stomach was twisting in on itself every time the plane jolted, and had long since shoved itself halfway up her throat. The sooner they got to the house, the sooner Elizabeth could get in a shower and ease the nausea. Despite taking two pills before they'd boarded, her body had betrayed her the moment the plane's wheels left the ground.

"Sorry about your hand." Her words were spoken so fast they blurred together while her stomach dropped once more, along with the entire plane. As the plane's altitude temporarily decreased, Elizabeth grabbed Luke's hand and squeezed as if to crush his fingers.

He wasted no time in adjusting his grip. Luke didn't want to be the only one whose bones were being crushed. Unlike his daughter, Shaw was a grown woman and her fingers were a vice closing around his hand. "Y'know, we should probably get used to doing this."

"Mm." Elizabeth wouldn't admit it aloud but the sense of security Hobbs' presence provided was kind of comforting. His hand was tight and reassuring in a way that said if they were suddenly sucked out of the plane, Hobbs wouldn't let go. "It'll be easier once we're there."

"I'm sorry to bother you, dear." Eyes still closed, Elizabeth didn't see the old lady turn and smile at Luke from the seat in front of them, holding a packet of salted peanuts in her hand. "But you seem like a nice young man. Would you mind — it's my arthritis, you understand."

"Sure thing, ma'am." Luke managed to pull his hand free of Shaw's grip and took the packet, tore it open and passed it back to the elderly woman. "If you need anything else, I'll be right here."

"Thank you very much. Now I don't mean to pry but is your wife okay?"

He smiled and nodded, placing one hand on Beth's shoulder. She jerked slightly in reaction to the sudden contact then seemed to lean away, returning her hands to the cushioned arms. "Just a nervous flier is all. Ain't that right, honey?"

Honey? In what world did she seem like the kind of woman who enjoyed being called ... Oh shit. The mission had started, hadn't it? She opened her eyes and looked at Luke, bracing herself for a potential hug. "Unfortunately. I've always preferred keeping my feet on the ground."

"An entirely sensible thing. You know, my husband John never liked flying either. He said every plane he didn't board only increased his chances of winning the lottery."

"Sounds like he was a very smart man, ma'am." Casually, Luke wrapped his arm around Elizabeth's shoulders, fingers resting on her bicep. She didn't lean away this time, he noticed, but Shaw still seemed uncomfortable. "Certainly smarter than most people."

Everyone was smarter than him, if the Fed was being serious.

"Hey, babe," Beth said the words slowly, as if testing them out on her tongue, deciding whether or not she liked the sound of them. She needed him to move. His arm was heavy, the position awkward and uncomfortable. Being stuck in the window seat only exacerbated her desire to get off the plane, to have her feet back on terra firma. "Can you pass me my folder?"

The folder? Clearly they needed to work on their communication skills. Shaw hadn't said a damn thing about wanting to review the Coles. "Uh, I would but I kind of packed it in the suitcase when we were rearranging our clothes."

Of course he had. She should've insisted on repacking the suitcase herself, although Hobbs certainly knew how to fold and roll for efficiency. It'd been kind of impressive seeing him work his way through all those clothes in a matter of minutes. "That's okay. Do you think you could pass me my bag? I packed a..."

"Would you like to borrow one of my books, dear?" the old lady interrupted. "I have an old copy of  _A Night To Remember_  you could read till we land."

"Uh, no, but thank you." Beth smiled awkwardly, still all too aware of Luke's arm on her. The last thing she wanted was to read a book about people dying on the Titanic while sitting in a plane that felt as if it'd crash at a moment's notice. Strictly speaking, she wasn't scared by the idea of dying, just the falling part that came before it. "I think I'll just close my eyes and ride it out."

"Oh bless your heart. Well if either of you need anything, you just let me know. I always pack spares."

"Why'd you decline?" Luke whispered once the woman shifted her attention away from them. He removed his arm and began flexing his right hand, working out the kinks and loosening his joints again. "It's not that rough a flight, is it?"

"For me it is. Rough I can handle. This is..." A hellish fucking nightmare was the first thing that came to mind. While Luke had been speaking, they'd regained altitude and the plane had returned to cruising smoothly, but her grip on the seat was unforgiving. "...worse."

"How'd you handle being on Cipher's jet?"

Cipher's—Elizabeth turned to face the window and closed her eyes, opting not to look outside. She'd never mentioned being on Cipher's plane to anyone, nor anyone else's plane for that matter. Whatever Hobbs thought he could gain by getting her to talk was wasted now. Cipher's jet was grounded, and the question of whether or not her handprint could unlock any doors seemed irrelevant. "If you think you can play me for information, think again."

"It was just a question."

"Fine," she grumbled. "I never stepped foot on her plane. Didn't see a reason to. Happy?"

If it was a lie, he couldn't discern it. She was far too unsettled for the waver in her voice to mean anything. Nausea, fear, stress — they were perfect masks to wear when being questioned. They could also completely throw off a polygraph and render any results questionable. "Why not?"

What was this, twenty questions? She could only assume Luke was trying to prod her towards answering questions that would help Toretto. Too bad for him she knew a thing or two about dancing around the subject. "Again, I keep my feet on the ground."

"And your head in the clouds."

"Ambition is not a crime." If it were, she would've been locked up by the age of eleven. "It's normal to aspire for something better, and for your information my head has always been right here."

"Then why did you throw your life away and run to Moscow?" An acceptance letter for a double degree in engineering and mathematics had been mentioned in her file. What or who was worth giving up a career path for at that age? If Luke had tried to throw his life down the drain like that, his mom would've hunted him down and dragged him home so his family could all kick him in the ass.

 _I hated her. Hated them. I wanted to go home._  "What does that have to do with anything?"

"You threw your life away for someone when you were eighteen, got a life sentence for murder three years later, and chose prison again by taking the fall for your brother. Now there's either a pattern of you choosing to do some self-sacrificing bullshit or you have a tendency towards making stupid decisions."

She clapped her hands slowly and quietly. "Wow. I had no idea I'd done all that. Would you like a gold medal for your stunning insight, Captain Obvious?"

"I'd like an answer."

"Fine. I was young, dumb and in love."

It certainly sounded like a young and dumb thing to do; the kind of thing every lovestruck teenager did at one point or another. Even now, Luke could still remember being sixteen and spending a week in Oahu chasing after a girl, till he ran out of money and hitchhiked it home. "Was this person the one you did time for?"

"No."  _Yes._  Why did he want to know? Firstly it was none of his business, and second, he wasn't her therapist. Nor was she some bleeding heart who sat and moped about something that'd happened fifteen years ago. She'd made her decisions and now she lived with the consequences. "What about you? Has the great Luke Hobbs ever done hard time with the big boys?"

" _Once._ " He couldn't have missed the sarcasm in her voice if he tried. Luke shrugged casually and leaned back in his seat, a hint of a smug smile tugging at his lips. He'd never been the kind of teenager who stole cars and went joyriding. There was no need to when your family ran a chop shop. "A mission went south and I got caught. I was only in there for a couple of hours."

Clearly it paid to have connections in the government. If he was telling the truth, that was the equivalent of processing time and then some. "Huh. You know something, Fed?"

"What?"

"You might know how to smooth-talk the ladies but you're still a complete bastard."

* * *

"This is definitely it." Luke unlocked the front door and held it open. The address matched the paperwork, but the house had that 'in need of some TLC' look to it. There were a few cracks in the light grey exterior, a dead plant or two in the garden beds below the front windows, and a second floor that held promise. "Now where's the housewarming champagne?"

 _Champagne? There's not a single bloody fence paling._  Elizabeth hefted two suitcases from the trunk of their rented Nissan and set them down on the driveway. The rest could be fetched later, she decided. Hobbs' case was ridiculously heavy to the point she suspected he'd filled it with bricks just for a laugh, but that kind of petty bullshit didn't seem like something he'd do. A likelier scenario was he had a gun locker and two kevlar vests in there.

She stood behind the car for a moment longer, relishing the heat of the sun on her face and back. The early morning breeze raised goosebumps on her arms, sent a shiver down her spine. Her jacket was still in her suitcase, although it seemed she wouldn't need it once the sun was at its peak.

"Need a hand with those, Nat?" asked Luke, turning to look at his new 'wife'. She hadn't said a word during the drive from the airport to the house except to ask him to open the windows. And this time, her hands had been clenched around the waist strap of her seatbelt. "Babe?"

"Wh—" Natalie. That was her name now, wasn't it? Elizabeth muttered under her breath and scolded herself. They hadn't been in-character for more than ten minutes and she was slipping up already. She'd told both Mr. Nobody and Hobbs she could do this, insisted she'd be able to handle herself. Now came her time to prove what she'd said was true. "No. I'm fine."

She lifted the suitcases and carried them inside, stepping past Luke without hesitation. Elizabeth left his suitcase at the base of the stairs then took her own up; she didn't want to waste another moment on the ground floor. Whoever got to the bedrooms first would have the chance to pick the better mattress. Garage or otherwise, she wasn't going to sleep on something loaded with springs that dug into her back.

The air still smelt faintly of paint, Hobbs noticed as he entered, and the rug in the living room had that freshly cleaned look to it. Yet outside there was no sign with tape that said 'sold' in big red letters or a chair on the porch, just a complete lack of evidence anyone had occupied it before them.

But for all its faults, the line of sight was near close to perfect. If he sat on the front steps, Luke figured he could see at least half the street. In one of those houses would be their target: a rogue asset from one of the three letter agencies. Someone Mr. Nobody clearly thought he could take down single-handedly.

The main bathroom was to her immediate left, Elizabeth realised upon stepping out onto the second floor. She could see its reflection in a hall mirror that appeared perfectly positioned to show both the top stairs and bathroom depending on the viewing angle. The ceilings were also more than high enough to accommodate Hobbs. The shower too, she saw, after poking her head inside the tiled room.

After dumping her suitcase by the door, she kicked her shoes off and stepped in. Provided there was an ensuite bathroom, there wouldn't be any issues whatsoever around soap or toothbrushes. Hobbs could keep his toiletries in his bathroom and Elizabeth would help herself to the deep bathtub positioned beneath the shower. Towels and robes had been supplied, she noticed, along with a liquid soap dispenser attached to one of the shower walls.  _What kind of pretentious wanker furnished this place?_

"Ahem." Luke cleared his throat. He'd checked the kitchen cupboards and found them fully stocked. The fridge and freezer too. There was even a container of his favourite brand of protein powder with a smiley-face sticker on the lid. "Find—"

Her heart rate spiked, eyes going wide with a mixture of fear and surprise. She snatched up a bamboo toothbrush holder off the sink basin and without hesitation, Beth turned and hurled it at him.

"I thought we'd moved past you trying to kill me," Luke said, seemingly unfazed. For someone without training, her reflexes were pretty good. He caught the block before it could hit him in the chest and chuckled, tossing it from one hand to the other. "Or is this a housewarming gift?"

"Jesus." Elizabeth swallowed, gripping the basin so her legs wouldn't collapse beneath her. For someone who looked like he weighed over 200lbs, Hobbs was rather light on his feet. Until he'd stood behind her and coughed, her ears hadn't registered a single sound. "How did you—"

"I climbed down the chimney."

Wanker. "Nice arse."

"I know."

Wait. That was wrong. Horribly wrong, and there was no way to take it back. They hadn't spent more than a few minutes in the house and already she was tripping over her words. It had to be the nausea — her stomach still felt as if it were being tossed around in a washing machine; her body too — or the shock. No one had spooked her like that in quite some time. "I meant  _nice catch_ , arsehole."

"Uh-huh." Of course she had, just as she'd been talking theoretically on the couch, and her almost crushing his hand on the plane was nothing more than a proximity-related accident. Luke tossed the bamboo cube back to her and asked, "have you checked out the bedrooms yet?"

"I was about to. Would you prefer to flip a coin for the beds or Goldilocks it?"

"I'll take the biggest."

Of course he would. Nevermind she moved in her sleep, sometimes changed positions, and occasionally kicked her legs out — all things Hobbs wouldn't know from her file — the big bed was for the relatively big man, and she would haul the other mattress downstairs to the garage. It would be cold, grey and boring, and also allow her space from  _him_. "Okay. Let's just get this over with, shall we?"

Luke gestured for her to lead the way. He had as little knowledge of the house's layout as she did, but it was better to have something between him and any potential threat. If Shaw's reaction was a sign of what was to come, of how she reacted to danger, then he wouldn't have to constantly worry about her when the chase began.

She set the toothbrush holder down on the basin and exited the bathroom without another word. Elizabeth walked past the stairs, continuing down the bright cream-coloured hallway with his presence at the forefront of her mind. She pushed open the nearest door to check for beds then moved onto the next room.

"There's not much furniture, is there?" Elizabeth mused, glancing back at Hobbs. He shook his head. She opened two more doors at the end of the hallway before reaching the window. From there, the side of the house was visible and the rear yard of the house next door. "Which probably means no treadmill either."

Luke pushed open the first of two doors on the left side of the hall and smiled at the sight of the large king-size bed.  _Thanks, Nobody._  That would do him nicely. The mattress had to be almost seven foot long, custom-made for the guy whose feet otherwise hung off the edge of any regular mattress. Fresh sheets were tucked with perfect hospital corners, half a dozen pillows rested against the headboard, and an envelope sat in the middle of the stack. "Shaw, I found the bed."

 _Wonderful_. Elizabeth sighed and turned around. Hobbs had spoken in the singular, not plural. Unless he was messing with her, which he had little reason to do, that meant things were going to be a lot more awkward. Instead of joining him, she walked back up the hallway, unbuttoning her shirt as she went. "I'll be in the shower. Did you lock the front door?"

"Yes!"

Thank God. Small town America or not, locking every door was instinct for her. Let alone that back home, no one in their right mind would ever leave their apartment unsecured lest thieves walk in and take half their shit. Now with her peace of mind guaranteed, Elizabeth could bump the bathroom door shut with her hip and turn the exhaust fan on.

Once the shower was running, she stripped her clothes off and tossed them on the basin. There were two large black towels hanging from a rack next to a smaller pair, as if they were in a four-star hotel and not some rented house, and two bathrobes hung from hooks on the wall. It appeared someone had shelled out the money for good quality cotton.

"Oh," she groaned, stepping under the heavy spray. The hot water beat at her skin and washed the sweat away; rose-scented soap turned to a lather of foam on her stomach and chest.  _I don't think I'm gonna want to leave this place after we finish here._

A quiet knock at the door went unanswered while she focused on not surrendering to nausea. If Hobbs wanted to talk, he could walk in like a grown man and use his words.

Another knock, then, "Hey, it's almost ten o'clock. Feel like something to eat?"

"Pardon?"

Hobbs eased the bathroom door ajar. "You. Me. Brunch."

"Sure. I'll be down in a minute."

"Take your time, woman. We've got the rest of the day to play house."  _Oh that was a bad choice of words, Hobbs. Real bad choice_. "...Don't say a goddamn word."

"Honestly? I don't think I could last that long."

"Alright, alright." He chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Keep your pants on. Just come downstairs when you're ready."

"Okay. I'll be there soon." Beth bit her lip, thankful he couldn't see the grin on her face. Now she knew it wasn't just her that had been thrown off by the reality of the situation. Talking about the mission was one thing but now they were here. In a house. Alone.

It was time to get it together, she decided. They were hunting someone dangerous, and their only backup was across state lines. It seemed she really had underestimated how isolated they would be.  _There's no escape plan if this goes wrong, Elle. If you blow your cover, someone's going to be shot._


	3. Chapter 3

Elizabeth tossed her jacket over the back of the kitchen chair and sank down onto the cushioned seat just as Hobbs put a plate in front of her. The smell of roasted tomatoes, garlic, chilli and eggs wafted up from it and made her stomach growl. "What is it?"

"Best cure for a hangover. My brother Mateo swears by it." His own chair squeaked against the floor when Luke sat on it. It felt solid enough to hold his weight but all it'd take was one leg to break and he'd find himself flat on his back with a sore ass and bruised ego. "Works for nausea too."

Hobbs had a brother? That was an interesting little fact, although it wasn't worth much in the long run. Elizabeth couldn't say she was surprised however. The way he acted suggested he'd grown up with siblings. He shrugged things off faster than expected and knew exactly which buttons to push when it came to herself, Deckard and Owen. "Huh."

"Food's ready so dig in. After this, we'll walk into town and have a look around."

There was no need to tell her twice. Elizabeth snatched up a fork and got to eating, keeping her eyes on the plate the entire time. Not once did she look up at Hobbs or make any effort to acknowledge his presence. Elizabeth had felt awkward enough looking past the shower curtain to check that Hobbs hadn't slipped into the bathroom without her knowing, and her subsequent tiptoeing out into the corridor only to discover Luke had moved both their suitcases into the bedroom rendered her an uncomfortable fool. She just wanted to get the first day over and done with, and move on to focusing on how they were going to find (and catch) the target.

"You still haven't said who this guy is."

"Doesn't matter." He'd told Toretto how it worked all those years ago. It was nothing personal, he was just there for two assholes whose names had hit his desk. "It's only a job. No need to get more involved than necessary."

"I'm not trying to get overly involved. I want to know what I'm up against."

"Just follow my lead and you'll be good."

Good? Maybe Hobbs had forgotten what was written in her file, but nowhere did it mention military or police experience. Her instincts would hopefully kick in when the time came to bullshit her way out of a bad situation and yet she had no intention of relying on them. Being unprepared begot errors while errors begot injuries.

"Oh come on, you know that crap never works." She passive-aggressively lifted her plate and took it to the sink, rinsed it and stacked it in the dishwasher. The dishwasher door was promptly kneed shut before Elizabeth turned to face him. "There's no use in me being here if I don't know anything. All it takes is one wrong word and the whole thing falls apart."

"And what if you freeze because you know what they've done? Say the target's got a gun and we're chasing them. We have no backup. There's no trained soldiers coming to our rescue. If you shut down, I'm dead."

"For fuck's sake." She curled her fingers around the handle of the dishwasher and gripped it tight. "The only things I'm good at are talking and running. If I can get a foot in the door with the target, that would make things easier, wouldn't it?"

"Answer me this: what happens if you get too close?"

"I stole millions of dollars without the hierarchy ever knowing, shifted money around day after day and they never thought twice about what I was doing behind that desk." Elizabeth clenched her fists. Of course they were back to this. Was it the Russian thing, the mob thing, or her surname? If Hobbs so much as said a word about 'trust', she really was going to lose her temper. "So are you afraid I'll betray you or do you think I'm just a stupid civilian?"

Jesus. Luke shook his head in disbelief and turned to stare out the kitchen window. Shaw really was oblivious as to how the past sounded coming from her mouth. She was standing there, stating in no uncertain terms that she'd been hired to do a job and chose to betray her bosses, stole money from her company and actively embezzled from criminals who had no qualms about killing people. It was like slapping a post-it note on her forehead that read 'Village Idiot'. "Every time you open your mouth, you dig yourself a deeper hole. You realise that, right?"

"Then why don't you tell me what the problem is, Hobbs? Is it because I'm a terrorist? A woman? Are you worried I'm going to sneak in and go all Lizzie Borden on you?"

"The problem is I don't want to be responsible for your goddamn death, Elizabeth."

Wait. That was it? All this bullshit was because he didn't want to be held accountable? God, here she was thinking it was something serious. No one was going to kill her. They only had to spend fourteen days in this sleepy town in The Middle of Nowhere, Nevada, and arrest someone. It wasn't as if the town were some criminal hub where people actively concealed Uzis under their jackets.

"Wow." Elizabeth pushed off the dishwasher and took his empty plate and cutlery, rinsed it and left it in the sink. She had to do something, anything, to take her mind off the fact he'd just used her name, and that her death had even crossed his mind. "I thought I had issues."

"This whole thing's a joke to you, isn't it?"

Yes and no. The idea that he cared was funny. Hobbs didn't seem like the kind of Fed to lose sleep over anything. "You put me in a prison with monsters and _now_ you're worried about accountability? Maybe you should've thought about the risks before agreeing to this whole charade."

"Alright. Get your jacket and let's go."

"No. You think I'm going to be killed if I get close to the target but you won't tell me anything that would allow me to prepare so I don't get killed, and frankly, there's no guarantee he won't kill you either. A bloke like you stands out in a town like this. You go out there and you might as well wave your arms around and shout 'look at me, I'm a Fed!'."

"Are you done?"

". . . Yes. At least buy yourself a stupid hat so you look like a tourist."

"You really are insufferable, you know that?" Luke said. He made his way out of the kitchen, grabbing her jacket off the chair, and tucked his wallet into his pants pocket. Dressed down in a loose blue shirt, cargos and boots, Hobbs was still struggling to get his game face on. Like Shaw said, he stood out. He could deny it all he wanted but odds were good people would stare at him like a bear in a zoo once they reached the strip mall.

"Mm-hmm. And you're tense."

"I'll walk it off."

"You'd better. If this guy starts shooting, I'll be using you as a human shield."

Wow. That was great to know. What a real vote of confidence for their chances of survival. Nice to know his partner had his back (if he could even call her that). Fortunately the asshole they were after seemed to prefer hand to hand combat, but that was no guarantee he wouldn't pull out a gun if cornered.

She followed him step for step, keeping pace with Hobbs once he exited the kitchen, and locked the front door behind her. The air had warmed as the sun continued towards its peak, heating the pavement beneath their feet and dropping the humidity to below ten percent. From the house to the shops, it was only a fifteen minute walk or so. Hobbs' pace increased slightly, leaving her sweating a little more than expected, and the tension visibly drained from his body.

"Ho—" Shit. What was his new name again? It started with D, didn't it, or L? Ugh! She'd been planning on writing it on the palm of her hand but it'd slipped her mind after sitting down to brunch. "Honey, you wanna slow down a bit?" Elizabeth asked. He was still carrying her jacket in his right hand with three twenty-dollar bills stashed in the pocket. "Please?"

"I'm not slowing down."

"Well I just spotted one of those hats and we both need one."

"What, you afraid of a little sunburn?" Luke stopped to face Elizabeth, resting his hands on his hips. The drug store behind them had a small rack outside with baseball caps stacked on it. Some read 'I heart NV' while the rest were plain-coloured and lacked any kind of design. "We can get them on the way back."

"No." She pulled her jacket from his grip and tied it around her waist. "I wouldn't mind an opportunity to gather information. Getting friendly with shopkeepers allows you be privy to gossip."

Shaw had a point. If they didn't start making small talk with the locals now, they'd look less like a couple who were interested in starting a family and more like outsiders to be wary of. "Fine, but pick an accent first."

"I thought we agreed I was going to use my—"

Both stepped aside as a group of teenagers passed them, taking up most of the pavement. Luke glanced at the three kids but said nothing. Once they were out of earshot, he cocked his head towards the drug store and lifted two of the cliché 'I heart' hats off the rack. "You're sounding more Russian than normal."

"Shit," Elizabeth mumbled. She'd been trying to keep it stable but if even Hobbs could hear the difference then the anxiety that'd wracked her on the plane really had taken effect.

"Don't worry, we'll just change the story."

Right. They were meant to adapt instead of being stagnant. Beth followed Luke inside the shop and smiled at the old man seated behind the counter, noting the four aisles that divided the store as well as the TV showing live security feeds positioned behind the man.

"Just the hats then? That'll be seven dollars." The old man had an underlying accent that Luke couldn't place. "You'll be needing them this week. They said the heat might push into the hundreds."

"Please."

"I don't mean to be rude but when did you leave Yugoslavia?" Elizabeth spoke up, pulling a twenty from her pocket. She fetched a tube of sunscreen and bottle of water and placed them on the counter next to the hats. "Or Bosnia?"

"You have an ear for accents! I left Yugoslavia in the seventies, long before the war happened." The old man smiled but his tone was tinged with sadness. "Three dollars for the water and five for the sunblock . . . That's fifteen in total, thank you." 

"I can pay for the—"

She waved Luke off and handed over the cash, pocketing the change and receipt a moment later.

"So are you moving here or passing through on the way to Vegas?" He leaned forward on the counter, almost conspiratorially. "You know, they might have all the casinos and lights but they don't have us."

"We just bought a house, actually, up on Holloway." Luke took the two hats and sunscreen, leaving Beth to carry her water. "Natalie and I — we're thinking about starting a family, and I just got transferred here through my work."

"Then I wish you all the best. I hope you both have a lovely day."

"How'd you know he was from Yugoslavia?" Luke asked once they were outside. He juggled the hats, sunscreen and bottled water as Elizabeth pulled her baseball cap on and adjusted it, looking more like a tourist who should've been walking around wearing knee-high white socks and carrying a camera with every passing moment. "You both sound similar to me."

"Spend enough time around Eastern Europeans and you'll hear the differences." For a moment, she'd thought Hobbs would ask what war the old man had been referring to, but given Luke was a few years her senior, surely even he would remember the genocide. It wasn't as if it were something that had been swept under the rug and ignored by the world. "We don't all speak like Ivan Drago."

"Happy now you got your hat?"

"Mm-hmm." She left him holding his own hat and the water while she massaged sunscreen into her face and neck. "Call it a souvenir."

"So we can keep walking then? No more pitstops?"

Elizabeth did a half-assed bow and gestured down the street. "Lead the way."

". . . Did you really call me 'honey' before?" he asked, picking up the pace again. He hadn't hesitated to respond to her attempt to get his attention but it had forced him to process just how strange the word sounded coming from her mouth. "I thought you'd be sticking to first names."

"We're a couple, aren't we? Besides, you called me it on the plane."

He shrugged as if to say 'fair enough' and kept by her side, instinctively walking closest go to the road. Luke hadn't lied when he'd said he didn't want her death on his conscience. If something happened to her, he wasn't sure how he'd react beyond calling for immediate medical attention. "Nah, that's not it . . . Wait. You didn't forget my fake name, did you?"

"Oh shut up." Elizabeth grabbed his hand, interlacing her fingers with his. If he picked a fight in the street, however small, she would probably find herself wanting to crawl under the nearest rock. Emotions like anger were best expressed behind closed doors, not in public. "You're the one who wanted to go out."

True. They needed to know what they were up against, what the playing field looked like. So far, it was just a small town like any other. Some shop windows bore signs that read 'for rent' or 'business for sale' while occasionally small alleys divided buildings. Every single one was open to the street and blocked with a chain link fence or dumpster at the other end. The roads, while well-maintained, weren't without the occasional pothole, and there were more than a few cracks in the pavement.

"It's James." He glanced down at their linked hands and chose not to say anything. Despite the slight sweatiness of their palms, Luke saw no need to break away just yet. "My fake name? C'mon, it's only been a day."

Right. So it wasn't Daniel. She could strike that one off her mental list then. "I'll write it down later."

"You know, I thought this place would be—"

"More like The Hills Have Eyes? Don't count your wolves early. We still have to find the target. For all we know," Elizabeth said, looking around the street as people passed them with no more than a glance in their direction, "he's got friends with him."

"According to the recon team, he's alone."

"What else did the recon team say?"

"They said you're an unrelenting pain in my ass."

"In that case, cut the bullshit and tell me who the target is. We could cover this town twice as fast if I knew who I was looking for."

"You could tip them off too."

"So could you." Once again they'd circled around to this argument, and just as they reached a grocer and fruit and vegetable market, Luke turned them around. She hadn't paid any attention whatsoever to the surrounding shops, Beth realised. Despite looking right at them, the details had somehow gone completely unnoticed by her. A hairdresser was behind them, a second-hand book store on the other side of the street. Up ahead, across the street and tucked into the corner, lay a park with a playground beneath a shade cloth; the grass was beginning to yellow. "In which case it doesn't matter how much I know."

"I meant what I said."

"Worst case scenario is we both die which means you won't have the opportunity to carry that burden on your shoulders. Quit giving me the run-around. It's starting to get old."

Fine, Luke relented. He'd known keeping her in the dark might have done more harm than good but it'd been a chance Hobbs was willing to take. Now the cat was tearing its way out of the bag. "He's former Delta Force turned CIA Field Operations Officer. Something happened and he went rogue. God's Eye tracked him here."

Well that hadn't been so hard, had it? That description alone made the target sound more than a little scary but Elizabeth wouldn't let that get in the way. She looked Owen and Deckard in the eyes and told them to sod off all the time, didn't she? What was one ex-member of Delta Force then compared to her brothers?

"See? Nothing bad happened. You can relax. I'm still alive."

"Haha. Very funny. Any chance you can let go of my hand now?"

Right. It was starting to get a little uncomfortable keeping her arm bent at the elbow. "Only if you kiss me."

"Now? I thought we were going to work our way up to that."

"I'm kidding." Elizabeth released her grip on him and wiped her hand on her pants. "We'll have plenty of time for that next week when we really sell it. The target lives in our street, don't they?"

"Yep." Just a couple houses up and on the other side. "What are you thinking?"

"Have a barbeque. Get friendly with the neighbours." Two weeks wasn't much time yet the faster they ingratiated themselves, the faster they could start collating and comparing information. Provided they weren't too aggressive with questions and Hobbs didn't treat it like an interrogation, getting to know the target's movements would be as simple as asking 'So what about that shady guy who lives down the street? What's he like?'. "If you're up for it."

"Woman, you're talking to the three time Hobbs Family cook-off champion. I can handle a barbeque."

"Alright. Now can we get out of this heat? Please?"

"Okay, honey." Luke leaned down and kissed her on the cheek, smiling all the while. She went rigid against him once more, like he'd jammed a taser into her spine, then seemed to shake it off and get herself together. There was no chance in hell she'd seen that coming. "Let's go home and get some eyes on this sumbitch."


End file.
